


A Tale of Two Tragedies

by sksdwrld



Series: Like Oil and Firewater [2]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Historical Accuracy, Historical Inaccuracy, M/M, courting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-31
Updated: 2014-03-31
Packaged: 2018-01-17 18:17:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1397752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sksdwrld/pseuds/sksdwrld
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mordred's handsome rapscallion returns, to both his astonishment and dismay.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Tale of Two Tragedies

It was nearly a week after William Barton Wright had been defeated by a nameless rogue with a shameless headbutt, and Mordred should have liked to have forgotten about that incident that followed or but neither would his peers nor his lips let him do so.

He was in the study, about to pour himself an afternoon delight when the house-maid, Gwen, knocked on the door.

"Sorry to disturb you, Sir Mordred," her lips curled up at her play on words. "But you have a caller. Is Sir in the mood to entertain today or should I tell him you've gone calling on someone else?"

"Me?" Mordred was disconcerted. No one ever visited him. "Who is it, Gwen?"

"Gentleman by the name of Gwaine Verdant," she passed him the social card.

Mordred glanced at it but the name was meaningless. He shrugged and tucked it into his pocket. "A business associate of Mr. Pendragon, no doubt. You had better send him through, thank you, Gwen."

Gwen curtsied and departed, only to return a few minutes later. Mordred was standing by the window when the knock came. He turned and nearly fell over with shock. Looking properly dapper and standing in the doorway was his handsome rapscallion, wearing a smart suit and an almost sheepish grin.

"Mr. Verdant?" Mordred forced himself to move across the floor, extending his hand in greeting. "I'm Mordred Camlann."

"I know." Verdant's hand met Mordred's and sent tingles up his arm.

Mordred gazed into warm brown eyes and time stood still for a moment. Then he slipped his hand away. "Can I pour you a drink? I can ring Gwen for lemonade if you're abstaining at this hour."

"People do that? Abstain, I mean?" Verdant grinned brightly.

"I am told that's the case," Mordred said, turning back toward the sideboard. "Do you have a preference?"

"Whatever you're having."

Being only early afternoon, Mordred poured them both a sherry. "To the independence of Greece and the Memory of Byron!" Mordred cheerfully toasted. His drink was halfway to his lips when Verdant lifted his glass higher, forcing Mordred to pause.

"The huntsman's pleasures--the field in the morning, the bottle at night." With a wink, Verdant clinked their glasses together and took more than a healthy swallow of sherry, leaving Mordred only to gape at him.

When Mordred recovered enough of his senses, he sipped from his own glass and gestured toward the settee. "Forgive me, Mr. Verdant-"

"Gwaine," he interrupted, sprawling in the most unbecoming fashion and entirely too close to Mordred for his comfort.

"Er, right, Gwaine. As I was saying, I have only recently become a ward of Uther Pendragon and having traveled from my hometown of Paris, I know next to nothing of society here. Tell me, what business are you in?"

"Industry," Verdant replied smoothly and Mordred's heart dashed to the cobblestones in an instant. New money, then. Tragic. "How did you come to be a ward of the most affluent family in London?"  
Mordred's eyes flickered to the side and back and taking another sip of sherry, he steeled himselfbefore replying, "My parents were killed in the Montparnasse derailment last year. Uther is my godfather and has been most kind."

"I'm sorry," Verdant said, looking momentarily chagrined. He reached toward Mordred and gripped his shoulder in a gesture that Mordred found more unsettling than comforting.

After a moment, Mordred set his sherry aside and stood, bowing slightly. "Mr. Verdant, in the poorest of form, I am suddenly feeling most unwell. Would it trouble you terribly if I asked you to come calling again, another day?"

Verdant tossed back the last of his sherry and climbed to his feet, letting his knuckles graze Mordred's cheek in an overly familiar gesture. "Of course. Again, I'm sorry. I hate to think I have caused you upset."

"Not at all," Mordred lied. "I sometimes suffer headaches...but allow me to escort you to the door."

"I had no idea you were of such...delicate constitution." Verdant's slow-blossoming grin told of his disbelief and he took Mordred's hand in his own. "Perhaps you should lie down..."

The sentiment was rife with innuendo and when a blush stained Mordred's cheeks, Verdant chuckled then swooped in. "You're as pretty as a maid," he whispered in Mordred's ear, pressed a kiss to his cheek, and then strolled away. He bowed and with a grand gesture, let himself out of the house before Gwen could scuttle into the foyer.

Forcing a sigh of exasperation, Gwen turned a sly grin on Mordred. "What a dashing rogue he is!"

Mordred nodded and fell weakly against the wall. "A true rapscallion."


End file.
